Scarier than Vampires
by Kate Marley
Summary: Sometime in the 1870s, Hungary, Austria, and Prussia ride out in rural Prussia. They meet an elderly woman and a boy who fear the woman's recently deceased son might become a vampire after burial. There are no vampires, of course, but how do you convince humans who believe otherwise?


_A country house in rural Prussia, mid-1870s_

Prussia was sulking. Not only had Bismarck forced him to invite the priss over to his place—"he is your ally now, don't forget that, Mr Beilschmidt, and _behave"_ —no, Prussia had to allow Austria to use _his_ study in order to read _his_ newspaper, and, which capped it all, smoke _his_ cigars.

Of course, Prussia could have simply taken one of the cigars out of their box— _his_ finely carved _mahogany_ box—himself, grabbed one of the clothbound volumes from their shelves and seated himself next to Austria peacefully, but where was the _fun_ in that? No, Prussia decided, fidgeting in his own armchair, he just _had_ to bug Austria; he wouldn't have any peace of mind if he didn't. Didn't try to, at least.

"My servants are talking about Hungary and you," Prussia blundered out abruptly. He watched Austria closely, who folded his newspaper, placed it on the side table next to his armchair without haste, and only looked up after he had taken the cigar out of his mouth with an elegant movement of the hand.

"Is that so," Austria commented calmly and placed his chin on his spare hand. It didn't even sound like a question.

"Don't you want to know what they say?" Prussia went on.

"As a matter of fact, I don't," Austria said, covering up an exasperated sigh. "Neither do I feel the need to ask, for without any doubt, you will inform me about their gossip whether I want to hear it or not."

"They say you can't keep your wife in check," Prussia crowed, ignoring Austria's remark. "They say she's just acting up with you and you're not man enough to tell her that it's inappropriate for a lady to wear trousers and sit on a horse like a man."

"Is that so," Austria repeated flatly. "Let me ask you, Prussia, have you ever attempted side-saddle riding?"

" _What?_ Of course not!" Prussia cried out, mouth agape. "Come on, Priss, how _unmanly_ is that!"

"Well, I have," Austria continued, apparently unperturbed, "and I can tell you it is not only _unmanly,_ but also very _uncomfortable._ I think no woman should be forced to use a side-saddle and would never oblige Elizaveta to use one if she objects—which she _does._ If I also appear weak in the eyes of your servants for allowing my wife to wear trousers if she so desires, _so be it."_ Austria said the last sentence with a challenging glint in his eyes Prussia knew only too well from the many times they had faced each other on the battleground, and he knew better than to comment on his words. _Behave,_ Bismarck had told him, and Prussia suspected neither of them would "behave" if he told Austria what he thought about men who allowed women to wear trousers in the nineteenth century.

In this moment, Hungary—who was wearing a dress—entered the room and spared him an answer.

"Roderich, dear," she said while crouching down beside Austria's armchair, "it's such a lovely afternoon today. Why don't we ride out a little?"

An uneasy feeling fluttered in Prussia's chest. _Did she hear what we were talking about?,_ he wondered. If she had overheard he had picked on her husband, his life might get _very_ unpleasant while she stayed at his place…

"Elizaveta, dear, I was actually reading…"

"Oh Roderich, _please!_ Just for my sake?" Prussia's stomach clenched in envy—no, not _envy,_ it had to be something else because it was _impossible_ he envied the priss—as he imagined Hungary bat her eyelashes at Austria.

"Fine, we'll ride out", Austria said with a sigh. Prussia all but gloated.

"Hey, Austria"—he didn't dare to call Austria _Priss_ while Hungary was in the room—"don't ever try to tell me again Hungary hasn't twisted you around her little finger!"

"Ah, Prussia-boy", Hungary purred, turning on her heels while still crouching, "would you mind bearing us company?" And Prussia had to correct himself: No, Hungary didn't bat her eyelashes _._ She didn't _need to._

* * *

Prussia fidgeted on his awesome steed, causing it to whinny nervously. He hated that amused little smile Austria gave him from where he was sitting on his un-awesome jade whenever Prussia looked in his general direction, and he hated Austria for rubbing in his face in this way that Hungary had evidently wrapped _him_ round her little finger, too.

Hungary was in front of the men, riding her own steed like a princess from a fairy-tale. No, Prussia corrected himself, like a _prince,_ for she was wearing trousers and didn't use a side-saddle _again._ Prussia's sulky mood returned.

 _What is wrong with me?,_ a voice in the back of his head wondered. _I didn't like it when she changed the clothes she wore as a young boy—erm,_ girl, _and started to wear dresses for the priss, and I don't like it_ either _when she changes back into men's clothing at times._ Sometimes, Prussia didn't know who confused him more: Hungary and her boyish side or Austria and … and his … Prussia couldn't really call it a _girlish_ side, if he was honest with himself, but something about the way Austria sometimes behaved felt _off._ It was _unsettling_ —Prussia shook his head violently in order to get rid of those disturbing thoughts, and his horse snorted in protest at its rider's sudden movement.

"Prussia-boy," Hungary called without so much as turning her head, "Don't frighten the horses with your fidgeting! We're getting close to a village and I'm not exactly keen on dashing across its main street and scaring your people!"

"That won't happen", said Prussia and reined in his steed when they reached the first lodges. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Austria raise an eyebrow at him in doubt and felt anger bubble inside his chest. He would have barked a poisonous remark at the priss, but two villagers ran onto the road in front of them, and he had to rein in his horse once more.

"Please, Sirs, help!", exclaimed an elderly woman who wore a patterned headscarf. She fell down on her knees grabbed Prussia by the ankle, who was the only one wearing a Prussian uniform. When she noticed his white hair and reddish eyes, she startled, but the officer's uniform seemed to reassure her, for she didn't flinch away.

"Yes, please help us!", a young boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, backed her up. "I don't want my daddy to become a Nachzehrer! Please show us how to bury him so that he rests in peace and his soul goes to Heaven!"

"A _vampire?",_ Prussia said in confusion. People in rural regions of the Northern German countries used to believe—and some apparently still believed—that a person could transform into a Nachzehrer after death for various reasons. Nachzehrers were believed to devour their family members and acquaintances from the grave without leaving it and they didn't have to be bitten by another vampire to transform. Sometimes, people claimed the first person who died from an epidemic disease became a Nachzehrer, but Prussia didn't remember any news about an epidemic in the area where they were riding out.

"There _are no vampires",_ Austria said in an exasperated tone. "We know that for _over a hundred years,_ so why are there still people who believe in that nonsense?"

Hungary ignored him. "Why do you believe your son would become a Nachzehrer?", she asked pragmatically.

"He was born with a caul over his head, so he is bound turn into a Nachzehrer, especially since he died a violent death, falling off the ladder in his barn and breaking his neck!", the woman cried. "How can I _prevent_ that?"

"I always thought it was said to be a lucky sign in this region if a child was born with a piece of the bag of waters over his head", Austria said to no one in particular. "Wasn't that vampire rubbish part of Romanian folklore, anyway? People get everything mixed up these days."

"He's right", Prussia admitted grudgingly. "Good woman, there are no Nachzehrers. Your son will rest in his grave peacefully."

"But I _know_ there are Nachzehrers!", the woman cried unhappily. "Please _help_ me! The burial is already underway, so we need a solution _fast!"_

"Boys", Hungary said, "we're not getting anywhere with your rational reasoning. What we need is a practical solution." She turned to the woman. "Madam, I'm from Hungary and I happen to be an expert in dealing with vampires. Did they already lower the coffin into the grave?"

"They're … about to, I think", the woman said uncertainly. To Prussia, it was obvious that the girl in her Hungarian uniform irritated the elderly woman a lot more than his albinism.

"All right, then we have to be quick!" Hungary exclaimed and dismounted her horse. "As long as we arrive before the coffin is inside the earth, everything will turn out all right and your son will stay in his grave. I promise."

"A—ah, then please follow me", the woman stammered and hurried up a little hill on which the church and the graveyard were located. Hungary rushed after her, and Prussia and Austria, who also dismounted from their horses, followed suit.

"Since when did she become a vampire expert?", Prussia muttered under his breath.

"She always was", Austria replied. "An expert in vampire folklore from the Balkans and her own place, that is."

There were already several people, including a minster, gathered around an excavated grave when they arrived, and four young men were using ropes to lower the coffin into it. Hungary hurried to them and stopped right beside the grave. The minister all but jumped with a startled cry.

"Ladies and gentlemen", Hungary shouted. Her voice carried wide; it always had. You had to have a loud voice when you had troops on a battleground under your command. "My name is Elizaveta Héderváry. This good woman has told me that you fear your beloved one might become a Nachzehrer in his grave. As a vampire huntress from Hungary, I am well acquainted with all kinds of vampires, including the Nachzehrer. Let me show you an effective and simple method to prevent any person from returning from their graves and feeding off the energy of their family and acquaintances."

Then, Hungary snatched her pistol from the holster at her waist and placed several well-aimed bullets through the coffin before it hit the ground. When they heard the pistol shots, the people around her gasped and hastily took a step back.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen", Hungary continued, "you have to aim several shots into the open grave as soon as the coffin is lowered into it. I tried and tested that method frequently, and nobody has ever risen from their grave, nor has anybody been plagued by a Nachzehrer afterwards." She stepped back from the grave with a bow. "Ladies and gentlemen, I bid your farewell."

Prussia's jaw dropped. "Did she—did she really do that _frequently?",_ he stammered. "Shoot people inside a coffin, I mean?"

"Yes," affirmed Austria, who seemed unflappable. "She used to do this quite often during the first half of the eighteenth century, before Maria Theresa outlawed grave desecration for fear of vampirism in 1755, and, as I suspect, sometimes even in later years."

"Dead scary", Prussia blurted out. "She's dead scary like that."

Austria frowned at Prussia. "Don't forget you're talking about my _wife",_ he said reproachfully. When Hungary returned to them he extended his right arm in a courtly gesture. She tucked her arm into his and smiled at him.

"Now that this is settled, let's ride on!" she said cheerfully.

* * *

 **Notes**

When I read the story „Sicher ist sicher I: Vampir" ("Just in Case I: Vampire") by my friend and fellow fanfiction writer Vogelbeere this summer, I remembered I had a non-fiction book about the history of the belief in vampires by German fantasy author Markus Heitz. Now I finished reading it—it's called _Vampire! Vampire! Alles über Blutsauger (Vampires! Vampires! All About Bloodsuckers)_ —and found the following sentence on p. 95:

„In Ungarn bestand die Möglichkeit, den Toten von der Rückkehr als Vampir abzuhalten, indem man mehrmals mit Schusswaffen in das Grab feuerte, sobald der Sarg in die Grube gelassen wurde." ("In Hungary, it was possible to prevent the dead person from returning as a vampire by firing into the gravesite with firearms several times as soon as the coffin was lowered into the open grave.")

Yeah. You can imagine the image that popped into my head (and around which I built this story). By the way, Heitz refers to the book _Vampires, Burial and Death. Folklore and Reality_ (1941, reprint 1988, p. 54) by Paul Barber as his source of information.

Apparently, there were quite some instances in which a part of the population of nineteenth-century rural Prussia believed dead persons had returned as vampires or as the vampire's German version, the Nachzehrer (Heitz, p. 180-183).

* * *

Since you can't reply to guest reviews:

Hex: Tell that to Austria and Prussia! :D—No, seriously, if I learned anything other than folklore and historical facts from the book by Heitz, it's that I don't believe in vampires. At all. Neither does he, by the way.

Abc: Thank you, that's exactly the effect I was aiming for! I'm glad you liked it.


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